Down Time
by lighthouse11
Summary: Steve and Bucky are rescued by Natasha after their fight with Iron Man. Natasha takes the guys to one of her safe houses, where they can plan their next move, and try to come to terms with what has occurred.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story is set during Captain America: Civil War, as a sort of gap-filler.

I am also uploading this on AO3.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, etc. These belong to Marvel.

Please read, reply, favourite and enjoy! Your patronage is very much appreciated.

* * *

"You boys look like you could use a lift."

Steve hadn't even heard the car approaching. Perhaps it was the wind. Perhaps it was Bucky's gasping breaths. Perhaps it was that his mind was somewhere so far away, because he didn't know how to process what had just happened. He didn't know where he was going. He hardly even understood where they were, or how they would help. Steve hadn't even thought about getting help. Just getting out. They had to keep moving and get out.

The black Range Rover pulled up beside them, the window was wound up, and Natasha climbed out, leaving the engine running, pulling on her beanie. "Hey, Steve? You hear me? Steve." Natasha gently grabbed his arm.

Steve stopped moving. He was so cold. Everywhere hurt and he was so cold. Bucky felt like a dead weight beside him.

"Get in the car," Natasha said.

"Nat…" Steve said, his voice sounding far away.

"Back seat, passenger side," she said, taking Bucky from him.

"Nat, I…"

"I don't care. Tell me later. Damn, Barnes, you weigh a tonne."

"Nat…"

"Car, now, Rogers! Don't make me say it again."

Steve dragged himself around the Range Rover and forced the door open. He clambered in, and slumped against the seat, only just managing to pull the door shut again. He didn't know how he'd been holding Bucky up. Steve pulled his helmet off and dropped it at his feet. The other back door opened, and Natasha pushed Bucky in. Bucky's eyes rolled involuntarily as Natasha pulled the seatbelt around him. She reached under the seat and pulled out two emergency thermal blankets, throwing one to Steve and wrapping the other around Bucky.

"Nat…"

"Strap in and wrap up, Rogers," she said, slamming shut the door.

Steve pulled his seatbelt on, unfolded the blanket and wrapped it around himself. Natasha climbed into the driver's seat and put the car into gear.

"It's a three hour drive in good weather to my nearest safe house. This is not good weather. Are either of you in critical condition?"

"I…"

"Yes or no, Rogers? Can you hold on?"

"Yes," Bucky breathed.

"Yes," Steve replied. "But Nat…"

"Two and a half hours," she leant over to the passenger seat and opened a bag, steering with just the one hand. She passed Steve a drink bottle. "I've also got snacks, if you think you can keep them down. Tell me if you're going to be sick. I don't want the car reeking of vomit."

"You just said three… in good weather."

"And this is shit weather, I know," Natasha replied.

"But…"

"I'm driving, and you two are terrible liars."

"Ha," said Steve, sipping at the water, huddled under the blanket. He looked at Bucky, who had his eyes shut. Steve leant his head back against the seat. The entire world was black rock or covered in snow. He closed his eyes.

"Ok! Ok, ok! Hold on. Woah…"

The car came to a holt and Steve woke up. Everywhere ached and he wasn't sure if he could move. Natasha put the car into park and jumped out. She yanked open Bucky's door and leant over him, struggling to find the seatbelt clip.

"Don't you dare be sick on me, Barnes."

 _Click!_

She twisted Bucky out of the car, and held his hair back with one hand, and kept him upright with the other, still half wrapped in the blanket, while he vomited onto the snow.

Steve looked around. The world was now entirely white. Even the sky was white. Bucky coughed and spat.

"Everything out," Natasha said, "Everything out before you get back in the car."

Steve was grateful for the blanket as Natasha had left Bucky's door open, and outside the air was frigid. He also noticed that Natasha had the seat warmers on. Steve liked this car. He took a sip of his drink. His mouth felt dry and furry and he could taste blood.

"That's it," Bucky mumbled.

"Okay," Natasha said, reaching inside the car and grabbing Bucky's drink bottle. He rinsed out his mouth, and dribbled water on the ground.

"I'm good."

"Ok. In you get," Natasha said, again all but lifting Bucky back into the car. She strapped him in and rearranged the blanket, placing the water bottle in his hand before shutting the door and kicking snow over the vomit.

"You ok?" Steve asked.

Bucky looked at him. "Dunno."

Natasha climbed in and got the car moving again. "Just over half an hour, guys," she said, looking at them in the rear view mirror. Steve wished she'd just watch the road, before he realised that that was white too. Natasha must have one heck of a sense of direction.

"Did I fall asleep?"

"Out like a light," Natasha said.

"In Poland during the rolling blackouts," Bucky mumbled, closing his eyes.

Natasha chuckled, but it took Steve a moment to realise that was joke, though he didn't understand the reference. The world was white and everything hurt and Bucky was making Cold War jokes and Natasha was driving a state of the art British all-terrain vehicle through what he guessed was a blizzard. Steve didn't understand anything, but he stayed awake through the last part of the journey, watching the white world, the occasional white tree, and finally a plowed road, and a township.

"You won't find it in your Lonely Planet guides," Natasha said, slowing down as they crawled through the centre of the town, "And I don't think there's anywhere here to even get a mention on Trip Advisor, but this place exists. It's cold and grim and grey, but it exists."

The buildings were a miss-match of colonial Russian, a small influx of late-nineteenth century money, and Soviet concrete boxes. It was out the front of a three-story Victorian building that Natasha stopped and turned off the engine.

"I need you both to try and look a little bit alive," she said, leaning across to the passenger seat. "Cap, stay wrapped in your blanket. The red, white and blue is more than a little conspicuous. All we gotta do it get you fellas inside." She tossed Steve a plain navy blue beanie, which he pulled on. "I'll help Barnes. Cap, just stay upright. The safe house is on the top level. 28 stairs. You guys have got to do this, ok?"

"Yes," Bucky said.

"Yeah," Steve said, wondering how Bucky was still conscious.

Natasha pulled on her beanie and got out of the car. Wrapped in his blanket, Steve did the same, and was grateful for the beanie as the wind whipped his face. There was no one in the streets, and Steve had the feeling that at any moment it was about to get very dark. He walked around the car and watched as Natasha helped Bucky out, also wrapped in a blanket. Steve closed the car door, and Natasha led the way towards a narrow door next to the closed farm supply store which occupied the bottom floor.

"Rogers," Natasha said, and handed him a set of keys. "It's the green one."

Steve flicked through the keys to the green one, which opened the door.

"Straight on up, soldier," she said. "Green key again at the top. Barnes and I are right behind you."

Steve couldn't remember climbing a harder 28 stairs. He counted as they went. The stairs would take a sharp 180 degree turn after seven. There was a door after fourteen steps, but Steve kept going. Natasha and Bucky were somewhere behind him. At the top was a small landing and another door, this one painted green. Steve slipped the key into the lock, and opened the door. The apartment was dim, and Steve shuffled inside, looking for a light switch. His limbs felt awkward and clumsy and he just wanted to go to bed.

"Hey, Nat…?"

"We're right here, Steve," Natasha said, dragging Bucky in through the door, and plunking him down on the couch. She flicked a switch and light appeared. "I'll be one minute," she said, turning on another switch, and a heater rattled to life, before skipping out of the room. Steve could hear her running down the stairs.

"You ok?" Steve asked Bucky, not sure what else to say.

"You look like shit," Bucky replied.

"Yeah, well," Steve said, "You don't look much better."

"M'ok," Bucky muttered, and groaned as he leant back into the couch.

"Buck?"

"I'm ok, Steve."

"You're not ok."

"No," Bucky said, staring up at the roof, "But I can't tell you that."

Steve stayed standing, not sure if he'd be able to get up again if he sat back down. They were in the main room of the apartment, which contained a couch and armchair, a kitchenette in the far corner, a card table and four mis-matched chairs. There were two doors leading off the room, and a couple of windows with musty lace curtains over them, bordered with think dark drapes. The floor was unpolished and the paint on the walls was peeling in places. It wasn't glamours, but it didn't need to be. Not so long as it was safe.

Natasha appeared a few moments later, carrying three bags. She closed the door behind herself, snipped the lock, and locked the two chains. "And you can't even close the curtains…" she said and tutted.

"Nat…" Steve said.

"It was a joke Steve. Go get in the shower. The bathroom's through that door there. I'll have something for you to eat when you're done. I've got enough rations for a week, if need be, though it'd be pretty grim pickings."

"We grew up in Brooklyn during the Depression," Steve said, "It can't be that grim."

Natasha gave a small smile, and moved around the apartment, closing the blackout drapes over the thing lace curtains. "I know. Get in the shower."

"I - I don't have anything to change into."

Natasha gave an exasperated sigh, and lifted one of the bags onto the table. "Arms out."

Steve held out his hands.

"Bathroom travel kit. Shampoo, conditioner, body wash, deodorant. Use it. Miniature first-aid kit. Use that, too. Underpants. Thermal long-sleeve top and pants. Thermal socks. To the bathroom."

"Nat…"

"The hot water should be working. There are towels in the cupboard under the sink."

"Nat, I…"

"Steve, is someone about to die?"

"What? No."

"Then right now, I don't care. Get in the bathroom."

There was no point arguing. Steve shuffled into the bathroom, this time finding the light switch straight away.

"Well," Natasha said as the bathroom door snipped shut, "Sorry I'm not an engineer, Barnes. I can patch you up, I'm one heck of a trauma first-aider, but I can't do much about the arm."

Bucky nodded.

"Anything really bad? Other than the arm, of course."

"Don't know," Bucky said. "You kind of just learn not to feel it."

"Ok, well I'm guessing some level of concussion, and judging by your breathing, a few good kicks to the ribs," Natasha said. Bucky didn't respond.

"You want to eat something? Or will you be sick again?"

"Don't know."

"Steve needs to eat."

"Yes."

Natasha picked up another bag and placed it on the table. She unzipped it. "Instant noddles, tinned soup, tinned beans, energy bars…"

"Chicken soup?"

"Yeah, one of these," Natasha said, shifting through the cans. "Here we go."

"Water… it down," Bucky murmured, "And add… a thing of noddles. He needs carbs."

"He needs a kick in the pants, but we'll get to that. What the hell were you two doing?" Natasha said, grabbing a packet of instant noddles. Bucky didn't respond. "You know what, never mind. Tell me in the morning."

The kitchenette consisted of a sink, a stove-top and a square-foot of bench space, but it was enough. Natasha took a pot from the cupboard and emptied the tin of soup into it, then filled the tin with water and added that too. The whole building shuddered as Steve turned on the shower and the pipes cranked to life.

"Haven't been here for a while," Natasha said, "Remote corners of Siberia aren't exactly top of my vacation list."

"Where are we?" Bucky asked.

"Best if you don't know exactly," Natasha said, "I need to keep my safe houses safe."

"S'k."

Natasha lit the gas stove and put the pot on. "Just tip the noddles straight into the soup?"

"Why not?"

"With another cup of water," she said, as much to herself as to Bucky. She found a spoon and gave the chicken soup concoction a stir. She was starving, and this smelt surprisingly good.

"Natasha?" Bucky said.

"Yeah?"

"I... I do remember you."

"Yeah," Natasha said, and felt her stomach drop, glad she had something to do so she didn't have to face Bucky quite yet. "I know."


	2. Chapter 2

After a couple of minutes, a couple of bubbles emerged from the soup, Natasha gave it a stir, then put on another pot of water to boil for tea. Of course Bucky remembered her. He remembered everything, and she didn't know if that made things better or worse. Maybe it didn't matter. The apartment fell silent as Steve turned off the shower. Every so often she could hear him thumping about. He appeared a few minutes later, dressed in the thermals.

"Ready for dinner?" Natasha asked.

"Yeah, thanks."

"Sit down, Cap," Natasha said, gesturing towards the four mis-matched chairs at the card table. Steve hobbled over and sat down, trying to get a good look at Bucky. Natasha found a bowl and filled it with the noodle soup. She brought that over to the table, and pulled a plastic spoon out of the bag with the food supplies. "Eat up. You don't need me to patch you up at all?"

"I think I'm good," Steve said, giving the soup a stir and watching the steam rise, while Natasha made the three of them a cup of tea. "And Bucky?"

"He'll be right. We gotta eat first, and get you to bed."

"Nat…"

"Eat. Jeez, seeing you all cleaned up, you're a bit beat-up, Cap. Looking better without the blood, though."

"Thanks."

"No worries," Natasha smiled, sitting down with a bowl for herself. "Stark not so worried about those perfect pearly whites now, huh?"

Soon, Steve was sliding into the double bed. The sheets were cold, but there were three woollen blankets and a thick doona cover. It would warm up soon enough.

"Want me to tuck you in?" Natasha asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"I'll be right. You sure you're ok with Buck?"

"Course," Natasha lied, having no idea how she would go patching Bucky up.

"What do we do now?"

"You go to sleep, and I have everything fixed in the morning." She was such a good liar, she almost had herself convinced.

"Nat…"

"Steve, we'll discuss it later, ok? Get some sleep, you look like shit."

"I was just going to say that that soup wasn't all bad."

"It's an old recipe," Natasha replied, wondering when and where Bucky had learnt to make somewhat decent instant meals.

Steve snuggled into the bed. "Night, Nat."

"Night, Steve," she turned out the bedroom light, and guessed that Steve was asleep before she closed the door. "Now onto you, Sergeant Barnes."

"Do you even know where to start?" Bucky asked. He hadn't eaten anything, but Natasha forced him to have a cup of tea. She'd had two.

"No idea. The arm?"

Bucky had hardly moved since she'd dropped him onto the couch. She wondered if he could, or was just so well trained to sit still and do what he was told, that he didn't even realise he was doing it. "Do you know what you're doing?" Bucky asked.

Natasha gently unwrapped the blanket which sat around his shoulders and knelt down to look at the exposed wires sticking out of his shoulder. "I'm not an engineer," she said, "Or an electrician, and my buddies who might have some idea are are either in prison or we're not talking to them right now."

"Sorry."

"You don't get to apologise. Not for this." Natasha stood up and went over to her bags. She rummaged through the bag with the clothing and supplies, pulling out a pair of pliers and a small ring of yellow electrical tape. She also grabbed the head torch and put it on, as the main light wasn't great. "As a temporary fix, this'll have to do. Oh, and you're not bleeding internally or anything?"

"Think I'm ok."

"Ok," Natasha said, sitting down beside Bucky on the couch, and flicking on the torch light. "This might sting. Or it might not. Can't say I've taped up anyone's arm quite like this before."

Bucky leant against the armrest and Natasha pulled out one wire with the pliers. Bucky flinched, and Natasha wrapped the end of it up in the electrical tape, breaking the tape with her teeth. "This is, like, a seriously short-term fix, but it's the best idea I've got."

"It's'k," Bucky said, closing his eyes, "I don't have anything better."

"If you don't mind me asking," Natasha said, carefully pulling out a completely unattached and burnt piece of wire, "What the hell happened?"

"You want the long or the short version?"

"Since I have no idea how long this will take, so let's go long. You can always wrap it up."

Bucky took as deep a breath as he could manage. "So, start after Washington?"

"Whenever," Natasha said, taping another loose end. "We got all night."

It took a while, but eventually Natasha had wrapped the end of of the wires in tape, and had pulled the foreign object outs of the wound. Bucky's 'long version' wasn't particularly long, and he was finished before Natasha went and washed her hands and the pliers in the tiny kitchenette sink, not wanting to think about what was on them. Bucky had stuck to the facts; most of them she already knew. She couldn't deal with her emotions yet, she needed to finish patching Bucky up and get him off to sleep. This time they didn't talk, Natasha worked to clean, dress and bind his injuries as required, and Bucky worked to stay conscious for her.

Natasha cut the left arm off the other long-sleeve thermal top and helped Bucky into it, then into the thermal socks and pants, the same as Steve. Bucky tried to find a comfortable position lying down, and Natasha tucked the thermal blanket and another slightly musty old blanket around him.

"I…"

"Go to sleep," Natasha said, placing his drink bottle beside the couch.

"Thank-you," Bucky muttered.

Natasha nodded and turned off the light. She moved carefully and sat down on the armchair. Stark had gone to them. Olive branches had been exchanged. And then… she had known. Natasha had known that the Winter Soldier had killed Howard and Maria Stark. But Tony, so consumed with rage and vengeance, had tried to kill them both. There was no excuse for that. Natasha would hear Steve's story in the morning, but she had a feeling that Bucky wouldn't lie. He certainly didn't try to paint himself the hero, and had no reason to lie.

Natasha pulled her phone out of her pocket. It wasn't her usual phone, of course, she'd left that at the Compound. This was the cheapest, hardiest thing she could find in Duty Free. It could make and receive calls, send and receive text messages, and that was pretty much it. She had purchased a local SIM card at Moscow International, and had loaded it up with international minutes. Now she just needed someone to call.

Clint was her usual first option. When she needed to talk something out with someone who wasn't going to judge her, or panic, or crack the shits, or lecture her. She needed Clint and Clint was in prison.

Lawyers get people out of prison.

810 1 212 …

Natasha committed important phone numbers to memory. The beeping keys made Bucky stir.

"What's that?"

"I gotta call a friend. You're ok if I talk?"

"Yeah, just the beeping. I don't like that."

"I'll turn it off."

"M'k. 'Night."

"Goodnight," Natasha said, and turned the sound off before finishing dialling and pressing the green button to call. It didn't matter if Bucky was still awake and listened in. The phone rang. Natasha waited, and tried to figure out the timezone differences. She waited. She didn't want to leave a message. He couldn't be able to call her back on this number anyhow.

 _"_ _Hello?"_

"Hiya Matty. Long time no see. I've got some questions. You'd better start charging."


	3. Chapter 3

_"_ _Sorry, who is this?"_ The voice on the other end of the phone asked.

"Matty, how many people would call you from a burn phone in Siberia?" Natasha replied, folding her legs.

 _"_ _Natasha?"_

"Ah-huh."

 _"_ _W - what the hell? It's not like I can see the number. Just - hang on."_

Natasha waited while she heard a chair scrape, then a door click shut.

 _"_ _Ok,"_ Matt said, _"What the hell?"_

"Have you heard any news lately?"

 _"_ _About what?"_

"The world, Matty. You know, that place outside of Manhattan Island."

 _"_ _It doesn't much interest me. Why?"_

"Anything about Germany?"

 _"_ _Dunno. Foggy and Karen may have been speaking about it this morning. At an airport?"_

"Oh, Matthew, you are a terrible liar. Yes, Leipzig. So you do know."

 _"_ _What do you want, Natasha?"_ He didn't want to talk to her. She didn't care. This was the most fun she'd had in days.

"Answers. Legal ones."

 _"_ _Seriously?"_

"At $250 an hour, I'd hope you'd give me serious ones."

 _"_ _Since when are those my rates?"_

"Aren't they? I'm happy to pay the usual, then."

 _"_ _Wait, what? No, wait. Sorry. I'm just - I, things here are a bit of a mess."_

"I'm not paying you $250 an hour to listen to your problems, Murdock. You wanna talk, we can do that next time I'm State-side. I have plenty of questions for you too. Who are you sleeping with at the moment?"

 _"_ _I - what?"_

"Two hundred and fifty dollars, Matt. Though that is a serious question, but not for today. I need everything you know on diplomatic immunity, international ghosts, legal hideaways, et cetera."

 _"_ _In an hour?"_

"In however long it takes."

 _"_ _It - it's hardly my speciality, Natasha."_

"Yeah, well finding a lawyer I trust isn't one of mine. Or, you know, people I - like."

 _"_ _Is that a compliment?"_

"I'm asking you to help me have Captain America acquitted, Matt. Before we leave here, I need to know our options. Do your lawyer thing. Go."

 _"_ _What about you?"_

"Two hundred and fifty dollars. We'll get to me, and Sergeant Barnes here, and Clint Barton and the others. But start with Rogers. Before I make any decisions, I need to know…"

 _"_ _Right,"_ said Matt, _"So, you and your little band have kind of pissed off everyone who's anyone…"_

"Things I don't know, please, Matt."

 _"Natasha, let me talk. So..."_

"So," Natasha said after close to an hour of questions and answers with Matt. "That answers that, then." She couldn't take Steve and Bucky back to the States. Steve, maybe, after giving everything time to cool down, but not Bucky. Not like this. And there was hope for the others. That was all she needed.

 _"_ _You must be pretty desperate,"_ Matt said, _"To be calling me for help."_

"Like I said," Natasha said, "It's not easy to find a lawyer I can trust."

 _"_ _I don't trust you, Natasha."_ He had never trusted her, and he had been right not to. It was easy for her to try to be someone else with him. But she always felt like there was something else to him too. Something he wouldn't say, as though she'd never believe him. Sometimes she had thought about coming clean, but to a guy like that? Matt Murdock was closer to God than Steve, and Natasha was very far away.

"I don't need you to, Matt."

 _"_ _You - you must have other friends."_

"Not really. Not at the moment."

 _"_ _In the whole world…"_

"Nope," Natasha said. "Successfully alienated the lot."

 _"_ _Well, no one knows how to loose friends and alienate people quite like you."_

Natasha chuckled. "I will take that as a compliment. I'll call you back in a few days. Keep an eye out for a cheque in a fortnight or so."

 _"_ _Right,"_ Matt said, _"Try not to get... shot or arrested. I dunno."_

"Careful Matty," Natasha said, "You almost sound like you care."

Matt hung up. Natasha put the phone in her pocket, refilled the pot and put it on the boil while she went to the bathroom. She then made herself another cup of tea and sunk back into the creaky armchair. One more friend. All girls together, what? She took a sip of her tea, pulled the phone out and dialled.

The phone rang. Natasha had no idea what the time was in New Zealand.

 _"_ _Hello?"_

Natasha tipped her head back in relief. "Hill, it's Nat."

 _"_ _Nat! Hey! What's the time there?"_

"I don't know. Like, three in the morning."

 _"_ _Wait, what? You're not in the States?"_

"No, Siberia. What are you doing? It's kind of loud."

 _"_ _Oh, I'm just finishing breakfast,"_ Maria gushed, _"Fergburger. It's not a lie. This place makes the best burgers in the world, breakfast and otherwise. Oh man, it's so good to be back in civilisation. I mean, don't get me wrong, I loved hiking. The Milford Track was amazing, and the group I was with was super cool. And I loved the Routeburn Track. It's just stunning. The climbing tour on the North Island was great too. But now only three more nights, then back home."_

"Great, so - " Natasha said.

 _"_ _So, this morning I'm going to a spa, then champagne lunch, because after all this climbing and hiking, I totally deserve it. I'm staying five-star here. It's shoulder season, so it's fairly quiet, and the hotel was totally reasonably priced. Then probably jet-boating this afternoon, because this is Queenstown and that's just what you do, right? Wait, did you say you're in Siberia?"_

Natasha chuckled. "Sorry to interrupt your holiday."

 _"_ _Are you taking one in Siberia? Catching up with old friends?"_

"Rescuing recent ones, actually."

 _"_ _Huh?"_

"Steve and Bucky."

 _"_ _Barnes?"_

"Yeah," Natasha said, looking at Bucky.

There was silence for a moment, and Natasha could hear only background noise from Maria's end. _"What have I missed?"_ Maria asked.

"We can stay here for a couple of night, but then…"

 _"_ _What happened, Natasha?"_

"You've been off grid," Natasha sighed.

 _"_ _Totally off grid,"_ Maria said. _"Damn. Ok. Forget the story. What do you need, Nat?"_

"I need to get myself and two injured soldiers out of Siberia. Consider us all exiled, so we can't go back to the States. Not yet. And where would the US put extremely dangerous, highly-powered prisoners?"

 _"_ _That place in the Pacific is still operational as far as I know, but go back a second. Where in Siberia?"_

"I'd prefer not to be specific."

 _"_ _It's a big place."_

"Central."

 _"_ _Is there anyone who doesn't hate you where you could go?"_

Natasha bit her lip. It was a long shot. "Possibly T'Challa. He's…"

 _"_ _Oh, the Wakandian Crown Prince?"_

"Wakandian King. You've missed a lot."

 _"_ _Oh, hell,"_ Maria said. _"So your only remaining friend is an African King. Great. Ok."_

"And I tasered him."

 _"_ _Oh, for… What about Barton?"_

"One of the prisoners. We'll get to that."

 _"_ _Stark?"_

"Don't know. Not currently a friendly."

Maria sighed heavily. _"Ok. There's a place around the corner that does really good coffee. I am going to get a double shot, drink that, make some calls, and call you back, then go to the spa and forget about everything to do with the Avengers. Sound good?"_

"Sounds perfect."

 _"_ _Wait, what number do I call you on?"_ Maria asked.

"What if I call you in twenty?," Natasha replied.

 _"_ _Ok,"_ Maria said, _"Speak soon."_

"Thanks, Hill."

 _"_ _You owe me one hell of an explanation. And breakfast, and a half-day at a day-spa."_

"I will get you tickets to the NYCB," Natasha said.

 _"_ _Accepted. Speak soon."_ The line cut out.

Natasha sat in the darkness for the next twenty minutes. She didn't need to check the time, she just knew. After nineteen minutes, Natasha pulled out the phone and the little screen cast dim shadows around the room. Asleep, and covered in blankets, Bucky looked just like anyone else.

Dripping with red…

Natasha closed her eyes, blocking the taunts outs. She dialled for Maria. Natasha had to stay busy, stay focused. A lot of people owed Maria a lot of favours, so she could get a lot of answers very quickly.

 _"_ _Nat?"_

"What have you got for me, Hill?"

 _"_ _Oh Nat, with the coffees you can get down here, I can get you anything you want. Ok. Listen up."_

"I'm listening," Natasha said, and had a feeling that even though his eyes were shut, Bucky was too.


	4. Chapter 4

Maria filled Natasha in on what she had organised so far. Transport was all but finalised, and locations had been confirmed, for which Maria gave Natasha GPS coordinates. A refuge was in the works. Legal matters were beginning to be looked at. It would take more than twenty minutes, but Maria could get this sorted. Natasha would call her in twenty-seven hours, just before they were due to depart the safe house for further instruction.

 _"_ _Don't do anything to make this worse. Stay where you are, and stay quiet. Go get some sleep."_

"Yeah," Natasha looked at the pile of blankets which was Bucky. Part way through the phone call his breathing had changed, and Natasha guessed he had fallen asleep. "We'll be all right. Thanks."

" _Bye."_

"Bye," Natasha pried herself from the chair, left the phone on the card table, and shuffled into the bedroom. There was only the one double bed in the apartment, and though Steve took up two-thirds of it, there was room enough for her. Natasha pulled off her boots and hoodie, and slid in beside him.

The grey dim of dawn crept under the bedroom curtains when Natasha awoke. She propped herself up onto her elbows. Steve moaned softly and rolled over.

"Go back to sleep," Natasha whispered and brushed her lips against Steve's ear. Steve sat up with such a shock that he almost fell out of bed. Natasha laughed. "At ease, Cap!"

"Natasha! What the hell?"

Natasha laughed. "Sorry, Cap. I couldn't resist. Lie back down. I'll fix us breakfast."

"Why are you in my bed?"

"Well, there is only one bed, and Bucky has the couch, so…"

"Damn, Nat, you just about gave me a heart attack."

Natasha lay back down. "Well, a man your age…"

"What time did you come to bed?"

"Don't know. It was late. I got some answers. I'll explain it to you and Buck after breakfast."

Steve lay back down. Out of the bed, the air was freezing. Being this close to Natasha, in such a personal way, felt both awkward and comfortable at the same time. She was probably the only woman he'd feel comfortable sharing a bed with, but he would have appreciated it if she'd asked. "I've got a lot of question," Steve said.

"You can have three," Natasha said, "Then I'm making breakfast, which is SpaghettiO's, just so you don't have to waste one of your questions asking that."

"Right, great," Steve said.

"Ok, Cap," Natasha said, "Shoot."

Steve furrowed his brow; he had a lot more than three questions. Thirty would be closer. He adjusted his position. At least waking up so quickly made him alert. His body ached, but not as badly as he'd feared it might. "Why did you let us go? At the airport. You - you tasered T'Challa to let us escape."

"Because you were right, Steve. You're always right. But if I sided with you, I couldn't keep an eye out for you."

"But you fought Clint…"

"I know how to stop him without hurting him. Or, you know, hurting him badly, anyway."

"You were playing double agent? Wait - that's not one of my questions."

Natasha chuckled, "Ok, but I'll answer anyway. I wasn't playing anyone's agent, Cap. I went where I thought I could do the the least harm. But putting out fires is hard work when you and Stark keep pouring kerosene."

"You should have told me."

Natasha rolled onto her side and looked at Steve. Even beat-up, he looked damn good. "I should do a lot of things. Like yoga more often. Learn to speak Portuguese. Complete last year's tax return."

"Nat…"

"I have to protect myself first, so I can then protect everyone else."

Steve sighed, "Yeah I know."

"My first question," Natasha said, "Are you hurt?"

"Hurt?"

"I never really grilled you on it last night. Nothing broken or dislocated? Ribs, shoulders, hands, fingers, toes?"

"Sore, but not broken."

"Anything that should have stitches? Anything pulled or torn? Hamstrings, calves… you were limping last night."

"I'm sore Nat, and I won't deny it. But I've been worse. I'm ok. I'll be ok."

"Ok," Natasha said, deciding to take his word on it, "Your next question."

Steve thought for a moment. He had dozens of questions for Natasha, so to find just two more… "You trust Bucky."

"That sounded more like a statement."

Steve sighed, "Do you trust Bucky?"

"Yes," Natasha responded without hesitation. She looked at Steve. "I'm guessing you'd like me to elaborate?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

"It's easier to believe in a mindless monster than a trapped soul. It's easier to pretend he didn't recognise me, but he did. In Berlin, when he was - activated, or whatever that was, he still recognised me. That was when I knew he'd been in there all along. He only fought us because we were fighting him, and he was trying to fight it. But now, asleep on the couch? That guy? Yeah, I trust him. I trust his skills, his judgement, even if he doesn't. He may not be the Bucky you knew Steve, and I doubt he could be. When you know what it is to be stripped down like that, to have everything that makes you you taken away, again and again, and to know what it takes to come back, in any shape, and to still have some sort of integrity, yeah, I trust him. And he trusts you. And…" she hadn't meant to say so much, to lay her soul so bare. It didn't matter that this was Steve, or that her words would never leave this room, she just hadn't meant to say so much. To defend herself, she smirked. "Ok. Time for my next question."

"Ok," said Steve, still processing everything Natasha had said, and realising there was a still a lot of her past he didn't understand.

"How long had you known about Bucky and the Starks?"

Steve rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling. Paint was peeling in the corner, and there was a thin crack running along it. "Bucky told you?"

"Yep," Natasha said. "We had a little chat last night."

"A couple years. After DC, when we started looking for Buck. I never told Tony… I couldn't."

"I know," Natasha said, "And, to save you having to ask, I found out around the same time, and I couldn't tell him either."

"I only found out because I was searching for leads. I just wanted to help…"

"Yeah," Natasha exhaled. "Ok. Last question. Go."

One more question. Maybe the most obvious. "How did you know where to find us?"

"I'm clever," Natasha smirked.

"Nat…" Steve raised his eyebrows.

"Well I am," Natasha said, and pouted. "Fine. An educated guess. A very good one."

"That's still a crap answer."

"I placed a tracking device in the Quinjet before I let you go."

"Seriously?" Steve asked.

Natasha shrugged and swung her legs out of bed. "I'm making breakfast."

"You tracked the plane?"

"I tell you the truth, and you don't believe it." She grabbed her boots and pulled them on.

"Natasha, I… wait, is the Quinjet still there? Shouldn't we go and get it?"

Natasha grabbed her jacket and pulled it on. "Tony took it."

"Oh," Steve said. "You're still tracking it?"

Natasha stopped with her hand on the door. "I was. FRIDAY found the tracker. It was deactivated. Tony will know it was mine. He'll know I'm with you. I don't know if that makes this better or worse. I'm hoping better. I hope he just leaves us alone. Because if he doesn't someone will die, and I don't want that."

"None of us want that," Steve said.

"Tony won't know that until he's burying someone. Breakfast will be ready in ten," Natasha said, holding the door ajar.

"And you?"

"Huh?"

"Your third question?"

Natasha closed the door, but continued to face it, unable to look at Steve. "Were you prepared to kill him?"

"Bucky or Stark?"

"Either."

There was silence for a moment. Natasha sighed and went and sat on the bed. The springs creaked. Steve rolled onto his back. "Not Bucky," he said. "He never gave up on me. I owe him everything, Nat. I literally would not have made it to adulthood without him."

Natasha traced the lines in the bedspread. "And Stark?"

"If he'd killed Bucky…" Steve swallowed. "I've never seen him like that, Nat. He was so determined… If he'd killed Bucky, I don't think either of us would have come out of their alive."

Natasha nodded slowly.

"I hate that I felt that way," Steve said, "That I wanted to do that. After he shot Buck, and he was just lying there, I could have done it. For a moment I thought I would. And I hate that. It makes me feel sick."

"But you didn't," Natasha said, and stood up. "You could have, but you didn't. There's a difference. You're all still alive."

"What now?" Steve asked.

"Breakfast," Natasha said, "Then I'll fill you in on the plan. Today we're bunkering down. So chirp up, soldier. You get a respite day. We all do. We can go be heroes again tomorrow."


	5. Chapter 5

Steve hopped up and came out of the bedroom a few minutes later. Natasha was still heating up the SpaghettiO's, and Bucky was sitting up on the couch, bundled up in blankets. Steve gave him a nod, and Bucky gave a small smile.

"I didn't bring extra shoes for you," Natasha said, "So if you want to put any on, you'll have to get your boots out of the bathroom."

"Ok, sure," Steve said. In just his socks and thermals, he was quickly getting cold. The heater rattled away, but it did little more than make noise and keep them from breathing steam.

"The Stars and Stripes are still on the bathroom floor, by the way. I'll do the cooking, because I don't want food-poisoning, but I'm not picking up your clothes."

"Right, yeah, sorry Nat," Steve said, "I'll go grab them."

"Breakfast won't be long. This is starting to bubble. That means it's cooked, right?"

"Does it say on the tin?" Bucky asked.

Steve popped into the bathroom, picked up his clothes and pulled on his boots. He washed his face and checked his injuries. Nothing broken, but plenty sore. When he stepped back into the main room, Bucky was sit at the card table-come-dining table, and there were three bowls, spoons, and cups set out.

"Grab a hoodie out of the bag Cap, and take a seat."

Steve grabbed the top hoodie from the clothing bag and pulled it on while Natasha served up the SpagettiO's and tea. Once they had eaten, Natasha explained the plan.

Steve was unconvinced. "That's not really a plan."

"It's a work in progress, I'll give you that, Cap. But it's all we've got."

"When do we get more information?"

"I have to ring Hill just before we depart tomorrow morning."

"Ok, Nat, this is… this is like a fraction of a plan."

Natasha shrugged. "They weren't big on teaching math in the Red Room."

Steve stretched, but his shoulder cramped. He was cold and stiff and Natasha was frustrating and ten hours sleep hadn't been enough. "I'm going to have a nap," he said, "Wake me up for lunch."

"Grandpa nap?" Bucky said.

"Ha," said Steve, "And just so I don't die of shock when I wake up; Natasha, will you be joining me?"

There was silence for a moment before Bucky and Natasha both exploded with laughter. Steve blushed, realising what he had said.

"I hate you both."

"Go rest up, Cap," Natasha said, "And don't worry about finding me beside you. I mean, unless you want…"

"You are the worst, Natasha."

Natasha chuckled, and Steve couldn't help but smile at his own naivety. Besides, he had made Bucky laugh, and seeing him smile outweighed any embarrassment.

"Now what?" Bucky asked as the bedroom door clicked shut.

"You don't need a grandpa nap?"

"I'm ok."

"You sure? You did have your arm blasted off."

Bucky gave a small shrug with his right shoulder. "It's gone numb. I get a slight tingling sensation every so often, but it doesn't hurt."

"Ok," Natasha said.

"So," Bucky said and looked around the flat, "Unless you have board games or a pack of cards in one of those bags, I guess we're up for a pretty quiet day?"

"How about I do your hair and give you a manicure?"

"A - what?" Bucky asked, taken back.

"When was the last time you washed your hair?" Natasha asked.

"Umm, I…"

"Come on," Natasha said, "It'll be fun."

"You're strange. Has anyone told you that?"

Natasha stood up placed her chair in front of the sink. "Come on," she said. With some effort, Bucky forced himself up and shuffled to the chair while Natasha whipped into the bathroom for towels and product. Natasha placed a towel around Bucky's shoulders. "You have so much dirt and crap in your hair, it would need to be declared in customs."

"Gee, way to make a guy feel good."

"Lean back."

"Where do you find the tiny shampoos?"

"I take them from hotels," Natasha replied, "Lean back."

Bucky leant his head back over the sink and Natasha turned on the tap. The hot water was hardly hot by stretch of the imagination, but it was a long way from freezing. Natasha grabbed one of the cups to help rinse Bucky's hair.

"So you steal things from hotels?"

"Souvenirs. And just small things."

"Oh, ok, I guess…"

"Have you ever stayed in a hotel?" Natasha asked, pouring shampoo into her hand, then massaging it through Bucky's hair.

"Once. In London. The barracks were full, so they had to put us up at a hotel. There weren't any tiny shampoos, though. And the hot water only worked in the evening. But at least it worked. I wonder if it's still there…"

"Do you remember what it was called?" Natasha asked, turning on the tap again to rinse his hair.

"Carriage… Claridge's?"

"You were put up at Claridge's?"

"Yeah," Bucky said, "That sounds right. Steve might remember. It was pretty swell. I think we were only put there because we were with Captain America. It wasn't for long. Three or four nights, then back to base for a week, then back to Europe."

"Remind you to take you back there some day. If you thought it was swell then, you should see it now," Natasha said, pouring a second dose of shampoo straight onto Bucky's head.

"It's still there?"

"Standard rooms at £400 a night? Yeah, it's still there."

"Huh," Bucky said as Natasha massaged the shampoo into his scalp and rinsed it out again.

"It's a bit nicer than here," Natasha said, this time opening the conditioner, and pouring it onto Bucky's hair.

"I'd never seen a bed so big," Bucky said, "Couldn't believe it was just for me. I though we must have been sleeping three to a room. All white sheets and hot breakfasts. Geez, that was nice."

"I bet," Natasha said.

"They had a barber service. Dugan - one of the guys - he made us all go get our hair cut, and have a cut-throat razor shave."

Natasha turned on the tap for the final time to rinse Bucky's hair. She recalled Steve once telling her about a cut-throat shave in London. It had been late in their deployment. Sam had been trying to explain electric razors to him, and Steve couldn't see the merits. Natasha looked down at Bucky, who looked up at her a offered a small smile.

"Mind you don't hit your head on the tap," she said as he sat up. Natasha wrung out his hair, then dried it gently with a second towel before giving it a comb.

She helped Bucky stand up, and he shuffled back to the couch. Natasha returned the hair things to the bathroom, and grabbed her personal toiletry bag. She then went over to the armchair, and pulled it to Bucky's right-hand side. "Give me your hand," she said.

Bucky held out his hand and Natasha examined it, turning it over, and checking each of his fingers. Bucky watched her hands. They were smooth and soft, but he could feel the strength.

"Well, I'll have to clean your nails, for a start," Natasha said, standing up and going to get the pot of tea water from the stove. She dipped her finger in it. The water was still warm from breakfast. "This will do," she said, bringing the pot over. She rested it carefully in her lap, then took Bucky's hand and placed it in the water. Natasha picked up the facecloth she'd taken from the bathroom and used it to bath his hand.

"I - " Bucky began and swallowed.

"Yeah?" Natasha asked, looking up. He wasn't smiling anymore.

"I can't go back."

"What do you mean?"

"Not - not while it's still out there. Not while I could hurt someone. I don't know how to tell Steve. Sorry, Natasha. I can't go back."


	6. Chapter 6

Natasha looked up at Bucky. "Back… to the States? Because, that's cool. I can get you set up in London, or, somewhere in the British countryside. Or Australia or New Zealand if you want to be totally out of the way."

"No," Bucky said, holding Natasha's gaze. "Into the world. Anywhere. I… I can't."

Natasha took Bucky's hand out of the water and put the pot on the floor. She grabbed a towel and gently dried his hand. "Because you can't have the Winter Soldier come back."

Bucky nodded slowly. "The book… the - if anyone does it again… coming back hurts so much, and every time I go under I hurt someone, and I remember _everything_."

Natasha draped the towel over her lap and pulled out her nail cutters. "We'll find a safe house for you. Somewhere nicer than this. Somewhere quiet, and peaceful."

"No. I - I can't be out there. At all. That's what I'm trying to say."

"I know what you're saying," Natasha said, neatening his nails, "I'm just choosing to ignore it."

"You don't understand," Bucky mumbled, leaning back into the couch.

Natasha put the nail clippers down and tugged on his arm, forcing him to look at her, "No," she said, "I'm the one person who completely understands."

Bucky closed his eyes and leant his head back. Natasha grabbed her nail file.

"I just… All the ghosts," Bucky said, staring at the ceiling, half wishing it would fall in and bury them, half wishing they would never have to leave this place, that he could stay here, safe with Steve and Natasha forever. "In my head, all the time. Everyone I hurt. Everyone I killed. And every time I think I can control my dreams, to stop the nightmares, I start falling off that damned train again."

Natasha carefully filed his nails, concentrating on his fingers. This hand had held the guns which had shot her. Twice. Once in the stomach, once in the shoulder. It had held so many guns, and hurt so many people. This hand that was bruised and scarred and grazed. She put the file down and pulled out a miniature bottle of hand cream, also permanently borrowed from a hotel, and squeezed the serum onto the back of Bucky's hand. She rubbed it in a slow, circular motion, then continued up his fingers.

"Trust me, it does get better."

"Not for me," Bucky said, "I can't… I can't sleep. Even last night, I couldn't sleep."

"I know," Natasha said, "But you did fall asleep eventually. When I was on the phone to Hill."

"Yeah," Bucky said, "And then the voices started screaming and I made them stop but I started falling."

"Well, after we rescue the others, the plan is to go to Wakanda. As Sam would say, they know their shit. I don't know what solutions they'll have, but there might be something."

"I just don't want anyone to get hurt," Bucky stressed, but omitted the final words of the sentence, including me.

"I know."

"But I keep doing it."

"Not true."

"I'm the reason Steve's friends are all in prison."

"I know it seems impossible right now, but they don't blame you. I know them. And I know that they'd do it all again to save you."

"But I don't understand why."

"Because," Natasha said, "We all need to believe we're worth saving."

...

Steve woke up a couple of hours later, and did fifteen minutes of yoga to stretch out his stiff body and to try and get his mind in the game before going out into the other room for lunch. Bucky was back sitting at the kitchen table, and Natasha was cooking, both almost exactly where he left them some hours ago.

"What's for lunch?" Steve asked.

"I'd call it paella, but that's probably cultural appropriation, since this is nothing like paella."

"Ok. What is it then?" Steve asked.

"Uncle Ben's instant rice with tinned tuna, canned spring vegetables, and a sachet of taco spice."

"Ok…" Steve said. "Bit weird, but ok."

"It'll be great," Natasha said. "I didn't bring any refried beans. Now, they would make this meal good."

"What are refried beans?" Bucky whispered to Steve.

"They come in a can," Steve said, "And taste excellent. Though honestly, I have no idea what they are. You have them in tacos. You'll have to try it one day."

"One day," Bucky said as Natasha dished up the lunch.

Once they were finished the meal, the dishes were cleaned up, and Bucky settled back on the couch, Natasha grabbed her coat and beanie. "I'm going out for a bit. Get us some supplies, check the car, check the local conditions. Make sure we can get out of here in the morning. If I'm more than an hour, call Hill," she said, chucking the mobile phone to Steve. "But don't leave the flat."

"You want me to come with you?" Steve offered.

"Nope," Natasha said, pulling on her gloves, "Stay here with Bucky."

"Nat…"

"Steve, we're in Siberia. This is my terrain. I'll be fine. Don't do anything dumb while I'm out."

"There's nothing to do," Steve said.

Natasha winked, and disappeared out the door.

"She's weird," Steve said, sitting down in the armchair.

"She's good," Bucky said, setting the phone on the arm rest. "Have a nice grandpa nap?"

"Ha. Yeah, actually. You have a - nice chat with Natasha?"

"Yeah," Bucky said, "She washed my hair and cut my nails."

"Natasha... washed your hair?"

"Yes."

"And did your nails?"

"My hand smells like flowers."

"And you're ok with that?" Steve asked.

Bucky shrugged his right shoulder. "Whenever they prepped me… there were never any girls. So it's... Yeah, it's ok."

"Right," Steve said, folding his legs.

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"I - I gotta tell you something. I've already spoken to Nat. She said I gotta be the one to tell you. And you're probably not going to like it."

"What?" Steve asked, suddenly feeling ill.

"This is my decision. So…"

After forty-five minutes of dealing with nosy locals, and trudging through the snow, Natasha returned to the flat with two bags of goods. She didn't need to ask if Bucky had told Steve what he had told her, one look at Steve's face told her everything she needed to know. He looked exhausted. Drained.

"I've got supplies," she said, setting the bags down on the table and emptying the first. "A pint of milk, four eggs, the newspaper - "

"The newspaper?"

"Don't interrupt, Steve. It has a crossword."

"In Russian?"

"They're not big on other languages out here," Natasha said. "Plus it has the weather forecast. Cheer up, Cap, because in this bag," she said, opening the second bag. "I got you a prize." Natasha pulled out a brown leather jacket and tossed it to Steve.

"Oh, Nat, this is perfect!" Steve said, instantly brightening.

"Can't have you going on a rescue mission in your thermals and a hoodie. Don't worry Barnes, I've got you covered too," Natasha said, grabbing a round sweet out of the first bag and throwing it to Bucky. It landed on the couch beside him.

"Soya bar!" Bucky grinned, using his teeth to peel off the wrapper.

"It's probably best before 1980, but hey, around here, what isn't? Ok, hot chocolates coming up. It's freezing out there and we've got a big day tomorrow, so we need all the calories we can get."

"You really think of everything, don't you Nat?" Steve said, as Natasha took two sachets of hot chocolate mix out of the food rations bag.

Natasha smirked, "It's my job."

...

That evening they went to bed early, Bucky bundled up on the couch, Steve and Natasha in the small bed, both in their thermals, and Nat still in her beanie.

"I don't know whether to thank-you or what," Steve said, trying to get comfortable.

"For what?" Natasha asked.

"This. Everything. I don't know."

"Get some sleep, Cap. Tell me when you do know."

Steve rolled onto his side. Natasha looked at the back of his head.

"What if the rescue doesn't work," Steve said.

"It will."

"It's unlikely."

"You really want me to start on things that are unlikely?"

Steve rolled back onto his back and looked at Natasha.

"I am sleeping beside Captain America in a tiny safe house in Siberia after he got into a fight with billionaire Tony Stark, who also happened to blow the mechanical arm off James Barnes, who, like you, was born in, like, World War One, but looks about 30. And you think pulling off this rescue mission is unlikely? Come on, Steve. Have a bit of faith."

Steve sighed and rolled back onto his side. "I just don't want anyone to get hurt," he said.

"Yeah," Natasha said, "Join the club."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Dialogue in square brackets is spoken in Russian.

* * *

When Steve awoke, he wasn't at all surprised to see Natasha leaning over him.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty." Even though the room was completely dark, Steve could hear Natasha smiling.

"Natasha, I am not going to miss this."

"I'm sure you've had stranger bedfellows."

"You'd actually be surprised," Steve said, sitting up. He felt better this morning. "You ready to call Hill?"

"Sure, just better pray she hasn't bailed out on us."

"You think she would?"

"Nope," Natasha said, also sitting up. "I mean, maybe, but it's unlikely. We're in trouble if she has, but let's call first. Suit up, Cap. We've got a big day ahead."

"Suit up, I - Nat…"

"Get dressed, Steve," Natasha said gently as she reached down to the floor for her socks and trousers to get dressed in the warmth of the bed. "You're playing chef while I call Hill."

...

Natasha and Steve both searched the flat before they left. Nothing was to be left behind, and nothing was. A cleaner came to freshen the flat every six months, and Natasha had no intention of using it again in that time. Natasha carried the bags down the stairs, while Steve supported Bucky. Outside, fresh snow crunched underfoot, and the moon gave them all the light they needed to load up the car. Bucky sat shot-gun, beside Natasha, and Steve climbed in the backseat, grateful for the seat warmers, which Natasha turned on straight away.

"Ok boys," she said, as they turned out of the town, "It's gunna be a bit of a drive. If it stays clear and the roads are in fair condition, we should make it in about five hours. We can have a toilet break for the weak-of-bladder in about an hour, but then you're just going to have to hold on."

Steve looked at the stars. The eastern sky was beginning to grow lighter. Today they would break into a top-security, secret, off-shore US prison. Today they would rescue their friends. Natasha said she had a lawyer friend she could call once they got to Wakanda. Steve looked at the side of Natasha's head. She'd pulled off her beanie, and her hair was sitting askew. He didn't know she had other friends, but then again, there was a lot about Natasha that he guessed he didn't know, and it was probably best not to ask.

After the toilet stop, Steve nodded off. The sky was grey, and Natasha sat her sunglasses on her lap. The white landscape would be blinding once the sun rose about the horizon. At least it wasn't snowing.

"Do you think we'd get any radio reception out here?" Bucky asked.

"Unlikely," Natasha said, "I'm afraid this is just a standard Land Rover with snow tires and chains. No other retro-fitting."

"Can I try?" Bucky asked.

"Nothing to lose," Natasha said. Bucky leant over to fiddle with the touch-screen controls until a crackly signal was found.

"Radio Siberia?"

"Sounds like it," Natasha said. The sun peeped up over a hill and Natasha put on her sunglasses.

"Huh," Bucky said, leaning back into his seat. "Don't suppose you've got any more cool shades?"

"Cool shades?" Natasha chuckled, "In the clothing bag. You might have to wake Princess Aurora back there to get him to get them out for you."

"The light'll wake him soon enough."

"Up to you," Natasha said. For a while they drove in silence, with the eclectic mix of songs from Radio Siberia softly filling the car.

...

They made it to the airport in good time. The sun shone over the white landscape and the sky was perfectly clear, though the wind was fierce, and Natasha could feel it beating against the car as she'd navigated the slippery roads.

"Everyone try and look normal," Natasha said, as she brought the car to a stop and killed the engine. The dashboard had been telling her it was -10 degrees, which was cold by any standard. The carpark was close to empty.

"As opposed to…?" Bucky said. He'd been enjoying watching the scenery, with Radio Siberia filling the silence. Music, especially popular music, was seldom heard in the Red Room or Winter Soldier program. It made Bucky feel like himself. He'd always liked dancing. He wondered if Natasha felt the same.

Natasha leant over and unclicked Bucky's seatbelt. "Steve, grab the bags. Buck, you gotta get out of the car yourself, then you can take my arm."

"And look normal," Steve teased, pulling his beanie on and flipping his coat-hood up over the top.

"You got it," Natasha said, opening her door and sliding out. "Oh, and Steve. Just... stay quiet for a bit ok? No English."

"Right, ok," Steve said, as a bundle of coats, presumably with a man inside, was coming towards them. Natasha took Bucky by the arm, and Steve grabbed the bags from the trunk.

"[Anna Nikolova?]" the man asked.

"[Good afternoon,]" Natasha replied.

"[Your plane is waiting, Colonel. I need to inspect your license.]"

Natasha pulled the license out from her pocket and showed it to the man, who nodded without reading it or checking if underneath her beanie, coat, scarf and sunglasses, she looked anything like the woman in the picture.

"[And a Captain Grigory Nikolov,]"

"[My brother, with the bags,]" Natasha said, as Steve appeared behind them. The man nodded and ticked something off with a pencil on his clipboard.

"[And Mr Sergei Alexovich,]" the man said, looking at Bucky.

"[My… very best friend, if you will,]" Natasha said, patting Bucky's arm.

Again the man just nodded, and made a tick on his board. "[This way, Colonel.]"

They followed the man a short distance across the tarmac and into an open hanger. Natasha looked at Steve, wishing he'd look a little less stunned at the Quinjet which sat inside.

"[We're ready when you are, Colonel,]" the man said.

"[Thank-you, comrade,]" Natasha replied. "[You are taking care of our hire car?]"

"[Yes.]"

"[You'll need these then,]" Natasha said, handing the man the keys.

The man pocketed the keys and shuffled back to his tower.

"Colonel?" Bucky asked as Natasha opened the doors.

"I needed him to take me seriously," Natasha said, helping Bucky up into the Quinjet.

"Show me that ID," Bucky said, standing awkwardly inside.

Natasha reached into her coat and again produced the ID card, handing it to Bucky.

"Russian Air Force. Colonel Anna Nikolova."

"What?" Steve asked, dumping the bags behind the seating. Natasha secured the door, then took the pilot's seat.

"Nat outranks you," Bucky smiled.

"I never doubted it," Steve said.

"Cap's co-pilot," Natasha said, "Sorry Buck, but I need someone who can fly this thing."

"It's ok," Bucky said, shuffling into the seat behind the co-pilot's, "I got to ride shot-gun in the car."

Steve helped Bucky strap in, then slid into the co-pilot chair. "How did this get to Siberia?" Steve asked as Natasha brought the Quinjet to life.

"There are some mysteries - "

"Natasha, this is an official SHIELD Quinjet."

"Hill did it. She has a lot of people who owe her a lot of favours."

"What do you owe her?"

"Ballet tickets."

Steve raised an eyebrow. Natasha didn't flinch as she brought the Quinjet to life.

"[Yeltsovka ground, Quinjet, ready to taxi, IFR, with sierra.]"

"[Quinjet turn onto taxiway. Winds two eight zero and blowing at 25 knots.]"

"[Copy that.]" Natasha taxied the Quinjet out onto the runway.

"Shouldn't you be speaking in English?" Steve asked.

"This isn't an International airport," Natasha said, "Out here it's Russian or nothing."

"Huh," said Steve. "Are - are we going to have any ATC contact?"

"Not until we're eight hours out from Wakanda."

"Oh. Ok. When will that be?"

"Five or so hours after our quick stop in the middle of the Pacific."

"Fair enough," said Steve.

"Well, good afternoon gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking. First I'd like to welcome everyone on this conveniently acquired SHIELD Quinjet. We are currently preparing for take-off. The weather looks interesting to say the least, though we are clear enough for take-off. There is no cabin crew, and if you want something to eat, figure out which one of those is the food bag. I'll talk to you again before we reach our destination. Until then, sit back, relax and enjoy the rest of the flight."

Steve laughed, and Bucky managed to smile. "How many commercial flights have you taken?" Steve asked.

"Oh, Rogers," Natasha said as the comms buzzed again from Ground Control, "Platinum frequent flyer doesn't even begin to cut it."


	8. Chapter 8

Most of the flight was in darkness, but no one was worried. Natasha preferred flying in the dark. Bucky had a nap, and Steve filled up on muesli bars and jerky. One time, when she got up for a stretch and to use the bathroom, Natasha caught Bucky's eye. He gave her a small half-smile and she smiled in return, but could read on his face that he was still in a lot of pain. Natasha returned to the pilot's seat, and made no remark. She didn't have to.

It was raining heavily when they landed on the deck of the offshore prison, and their landing had been bumpy to say the least. Second-in-command at the prison was one of Hill's men, and he had re-arranged the roster to make things as easy as possible for them, though the prison was still heavily guarded.

"If anything goes wrong," Steve said, waiting at the door, "Any sign of trouble, you're not to wait." They had considered Natasha going in with him, but that would leave Bucky alone in the Quinjet, and in no fit state to fly it. So Steve would be going in alone. They had hoped that there would be a set of comms in the Quinjet, but none had been found. All the could do now was hope for a miracle.

"Steve…"

"I'm serious Natasha," Steve said, waiting for her to open the door, "Any trouble, anything, and you and Bucky get out of here."

Bucky looked down.

"Nat?" Steve asked again, needing to hear an answer.

"Ok," Natasha said.

"Ok," Steve said, forcing himself to believe her. "Let's see if Hill is as amazing as she thinks she is."

"She is," Natasha said.

Steve looked back at Natasha and Bucky. "Open sesame."

Natasha opened the door and Steve stepped out into the darkness. Cold air filled the cabin, and Natasha closed the door again. Rain pelted the windows, obscuring their view of the outside world.

After a few minutes of silence, Bucky said, "How long do we wait?"

"As long as we can. Don't worry, I can live with having to leave a man behind," Natasha said. She fiddled with the dashboard, making sure everything was ready for a quick get away. At the first sign of trouble, they were out of there.

"Natasha?"

"Yeah?"

"We wouldn't really leave them behind."

Natasha bit her lip to hide a smile. "No. Not unless I had no other choice. But we might not have to. Heads up." She opened the door to the Quinjet, just as two shadows in the darkness reached it.

"Oh, man, I am pumped with adrenaline. This is so exciting. Hey, look, it's that guy! And that lady. Pretty sure you were fighting us last time we saw you. Are we friends now? That's the super cool. Wow, this plane is amazing. Is there food somewhere. Can I sit shot-gun? Wow. This rescue mission is going great."

"Where are the others?" Natasha asked.

"Shut the door," said Clint, as he climbed into the Quinjet behind Scott, wiping his face dry with his shirt.

"Where are they, Clint?" Natasha repeated, feeling her stomach drop.

"They're coming," Clint said, slipping into the co-pilot seat. "Wanda was more tightly secured than the rest of us. Steve and Sam are getting her out. Steve told us to go. I wasn't gunna argue."

"Oh, man, why does he get to fly shot-gun?"

"Can you fly these things?" Clint asked, at the end of his tether with Scott.

"No. Can you?"

"Yes," Clint said.

"Wow. That's great. I wish I could fly planes. I thought about studying aeronautical engineering, but they were all like, super-nerds. I'll sit back here, opposite this guy. Woah. What the hell happened to your arm?"

"Stark," Bucky muttered, wishing he could disappear into the seat. These people had been imprisoned because of him. It was one thing knowing it, but something else to actually see them.

"Oh, shit. Sorry man," Clint said. "So, we're on our own and have no friends?" he asked Natasha.

"We've got some friends," she said. "But I'm gunna need Steve to hurry up."

"That's what I said," Scott said, "And Cap was all, 'Nat's waiting. You guys get out of here. Go.' And Sam was all 'No, not without you.' And Cap didn't say anything, but Clint and I got the heck out of there, because that place sucked. I mean, it was prison. And I've been to prison before, and that prison sucked even more than the normal ones."

Bucky felt his stomach tighten, and for a moment, he was in a burning factory, with only moments to spare. He closed his eyes, but that only made the image clearer. He knew how that ended, but it didn't make it any less frightening. They get out. They have to get out.

"The food was rubbish," Scott continued, "And I've had some pretty bad prison food in my time. Also, what's with this uniform? Bright blue? What's wrong with orange? And now I'm all wet. Gee, Steve sure is taking his time."

"There's food in that bag," Bucky said, gesturing towards the two bags, "And dry clothes."

"Oh, thanks man. I am famished. Wow, look at all this stuff," Scott opened the bags.

"Chuck me some fresh clothes," Clint said, pulling off his prison tops and throwing them at Scott.

"Grey t-shirt. Navy hoodie," Scott said, chucking the tops to Clint. Natasha kept her eye on the opening for Steve, Sam and Wanda. She found herself tapping her foot with impatience. With Scott and Clint on board, she'd leave if she had to. And they were getting very close to having to. Alarms would have been raised by now. Clint pulled on the fresh clothes and strapped himself in.

"Chuck us something to eat if you find it," Clint said, while Scott changed his shirts.

"Just a moment, I'm looking. This bag is huge. It's like the TARDIS. Or that bag in Mary Poppins. My kid loved Mary Poppins. Now she wants dancing penguins. I loved that film when I was a kid too, but I wanted the flying tea-party. How cool would that be!" Scott said.

Natasha interrupted as Scott paused for breath, "Once you're dressed, sit down and strap in. It's going to be a bumpy departure."

Scott opened the food bag, and threw Clint an energy bar, a chocolate, and a bottle of water, then sat on the bench opposite Bucky with his own supplies and fiddled with the straps. "It's so nice to be wearing a hoodie. Damn, I just love hoods. Aren't they the greatest? No ties or shoe-laces for prisoners. Or hoodie strings. Where are we going? Is this how the seatbelt works? Does this plane have stealth mode? That would be so cool. These energy bars taste funny. Not like, bad funny or anything, just funny. Maybe I'm just not used to decent food. What is in these?"

"Hey, Lang?" Clint said with his mouth full of his own energy bar, "Eat and don't talk for a minute, ok?"

"Yeah, sure, ok. No worries. I can do that. Hey look! Is that - "

"Strap in," Natasha said, opening the door as Steve and Sam hurried towards the Quinjet, supporting Wanda.

"Go, Nat!" Steve called as they stumbled in, "Go! Go!"

Natasha closed the door and together, she and Clint prepared for emergency take-off.

"Tic-Tac, strap in," Sam said, sliding in beside, Scott. Wanda sat on the bench beside the bags, and Steve strapped her. Wanda was pale and look terrified.

"You're ok now," Steve said to her, and pushed back her hair, "You're going to be ok. Close your eyes, go to sleep. You're gunna be ok."

Wanda gripped the seatbelt, and Steve sat beside her.

"You ok?" Steve asked, leaning over to Bucky.

Bucky gave as much of a shrug as he could manage.

The Quinjet jolted and lurched as they took off. "Good evening everyone, this is your captain speaking," Natasha said, forcing the plane higher, "Welcome on board, and let this be proof that with good planning and a tonne of luck, miracles do happen. We're currently experiencing a lot of turbulence, which will continue until we get to altitude, and away from this weather system, so don't expect the first hour to be particularly enjoyable. There are motion sickness tablets in the food bag, but if you think it's too late, there are sick bags behind the front seat. It's 14 hours to our destination of Wakanda. In-flight entertainment is limited to none. Maybe try get some sleep. It's been a long day."

Clint looked between the screens in front of them and the darkness ahead, "And so this becomes another 'Aunty Nat Saves The Day' story."

"The kids love those," Natasha said.

"I know," said Clint, "But the occasional 'Daddy Saves The Day' story would be kinda nice."

"Then stop getting captured, mind-washed or running out of arrows, and you might one," Natasha said, and glanced across at Clint. He pulled a face and she smirked.


	9. Chapter 9

The flight to Wakanda took 15 hours. At some stage or another, everyone fell asleep, and the flight was mostly quiet, each lost in their own thoughts. Natasha, Steve, and Clint divided up the piloting duties as they flew through the dark skies over endless oceans.

It was mid-afternoon local time as they approached Wakanda.

"Man," Clint said as they touched down on the runway. "This place nicer than JFK. A lot jungle-ier, but that is one nice looking airport."

"It was completed in 2013," Natasha said, once again in the Captain's seat, "They beat to their own drum here, but they certainly get things done."

"And that one huge Qatar Airways plane," Clint went on. Natasha wished he'd just be quiet unless talking to Ground Control. "Is that a Dreamliner?"

"It's a 777-400," Sam said, standing behind them.

"Please remain seated until the plane has completed taxiing," Natasha said. She needed a proper sleep, and was not the only one of board who had reached the end of their tether.

"I have spent the last three days and 15 hours with Scott Lang. I will damn well stand where I like, so long as it is as far away from Lang as possible."

"Love you too, bud!" Scott called, and waved, giving his unshakeable goofball grin. Scott had hardly stopped talking since he'd woken from a sleep. They'd still been a good hour from the coast of Africa then.

"Ok, everyone," Natasha said, "We will ignore Mr Wilson, a former member of the United States Air Force, breaking air-safety codes as we come to a stop. Game faces, people. Until we're at the compound, we don't know what the play is."

Once the Quinjet was in completely stopped, and they were cleared by the ground tower, Natasha opened the door. Hot, fuel smelling air filled the cabin.

"Nothing like the smell of aircraft fuel," Sam said, breathing in deeply as he lead the way out of the plane.

"Look's like we're getting a royal welcome," Clint mumbled, following Natasha. On the tarmac they were met by a welcoming party of four guards, T'Challa's private secretary, and none other than Maria Hill.

"Who's the lady?" Bucky muttered to Steve, to whom he was holding onto for support. Bucky had drifted in and out of sleep during the flight, and he still didn't feel very well after the fight with Stark. Scott had offered to look at his arm, but without proper equipment or lighting, it was too hard to do so on the plane.

"Who? Maria Hill?" Steve asked. Hill stood before them with her hands clasped in front of her, wearing a smart navy blue dress and cream patent court shoes.

"That's Hill?" Bucky mumbled.

"Yep."

"Wasn't she in New Zealand?" Bucky said.

"Yep."

"Queenstown to Auckland, Auckland to Doha, Doha to here. Sergeant Barnes. Nice to meet you, again. At least you're not trying to kill me or my people this time," Hill said stepping forward and holding out her hand. Bucky let go of Steve and shook it.

"Hi. Sorry about that."

"It happens. Just don't let it happen again. This is everyone?" Maria asked, looking at the motley group. "Right, let's go."

Four white Jeeps were lined up. The security personnel and the secretary divided themselves between first and last Jeep, with the group splitting between the other two cars; Natasha, Clint, Maria and Bucky in the second, and Steve, Sam, Scott and Wanda in the third.

"Africa is amazing," Scott said, as they walked towards the car. "That jungle is amazing. It's like Tarzan jungle. Wait, is Tarzan based here? I love airports. That is a huge plane. What other airlines fly here? Do you have giraffes? My daughter really like giraffes."

"Has anyone got a gag?" Sam asked, "So I can gag Tic-Tac here?"

"It won't be long," Steve smiled, putting a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Rogers, he is a special kind of punishment."

"The sky is really blue here. What's the average temperature? Does it get cold in winter? Wait, we're in the southern hemisphere, right? So it's - spring? Do you have spring in Africa? Oo, I like that guy's sunglasses. Your sunglasses are cool," Scott said to a guard who held the car door open.

"Get in the car, Lang," Steve said, opening the car door and gesturing for Scott to enter. Steve looked over the door and saw Natasha climbing into the other car. She looked up and gave him a nod. Steve smiled and nodded back. If he was going to trust anyone with Bucky, it was Natasha.

"This is a nice car. It has new-car smell. Do you think I can get a burger? Not in the car, I mean, but I really want a burger. Or pizza. Or a burrito. Or just an sandwich. Who do we ask for food? Mostly, I'm really hungry."

"We'll find you something. And Lang, we don't need to hear every thought that comes into your head." Steve said, thinking how much he needed to go for a run. Steve climbed into the back of the car, with Scott in the middle and Wanda on the far side. Sam was riding shot-gun.

"Ok, yeah. Of course. Totally. Wow, I just got an order from Captain America." Scott looked at Steve and Sam. "Ok. Zipping it now."

"Please," Wanda said. "No."

"No?" Steve said.

"Scott… don't stop," Wanda said, avoiding eye contact with anyone. "I need to hear your thoughts. It gives me something else to focus on. It stops my thoughts from wandering off. It keeps me present. Please. Please keep talking."

Everyone was silent, the driver started the engine and the convoy began to move.

"Seriously, Tic-Tac? Wanda gives you permission to ramble on and you freeze up?"

Scott looked around the car: Sam with his arms folded, Steve looking out the window, his mind in the car in front of them, Wanda looking desperately at him. "I - I don't think I've been in a car this new before," he began tentatively, "I mean, that dashboard has nearly as many gadgets as the Quinjet. That was a nice plane. Hey, Cap, one day you have to teach my how to fly that thing, ok? If Barton can, I can too."

"Barton was a SHIELD agent for a lot of years," Steve said.

"Yeah, well I wanna learn," Sam said. Sam put his hands over his ears. Wanda took Scott's hand. "What exactly is SHIELD, anyway? Never made much sense to me. And that lady who's with the others. Damn, she looked like she could whip some serious shit into folks. Is she SHIELD? Hey, look! There's a pigeon. You guys have pigeons in Africa? That's cool. We have them in San Fran too. Hey, Mr Driver, sir, do you also have seagulls? Are we near the sea? I don't actually know where on a map Wakanda is. We should do more geography at school. I don't know in place of what, though. That's the problem. Not math. I love math. I'm an engineer. Did you guys know that? So is Hope. She's my girlfriend. Have I told you about Hope?"

"You can do it again," Wanda said. Sam groaned.

"Ok, great. So…"

...

In the car ahead, Natasha and Bucky filled Maria Hill in on the finer points of the clash with Stark, and Clint told of the arrest and the few days in prison.

"Even if I'd been around," Hill said, "I don't know if I could have helped."

"I think we got lucky you weren't," Natasha said, "If you were embroiled in this mess, it'd've made it harder for you to help get us out."

"Yeah," Hill said, "You owe me big time, Romanov."

"Don't worry, I know," Natasha said. Natasha, squeezed in the middle between Bucky and Maria, looked out the window at the winding black road, with jungle right up the curb. It had only taken minutes before they had left any signs of the city of townships behind them as they headed for the compound in the jungle. The car was comfortably air-conditioned, in stark contrast to the humid outside, or the blustery Pacific, or snow-storms of Siberia.

"Hey Barnes?" Hill said after a few minutes of silence.

"Yeah?" Bucky said. He'd rested his head against the window and had closed his eyes, but now he sat up properly again.

"Once we get to the compound, you'll be prepped for surgery. Gotta do something about that shoulder. T'Challa made sure there'd be a med team on stand-by. Didn't know what shape you guys would be in."

"Wanda'll need a psych eval," Clint said from the front seat, "Kid wasn't ready for something like that."

"She'll be looked after," Maria said, "There's doctors here who can help her too."

"I shouldn't have brought her. She should be off at college or something."

"She's over eighteen," Maria said, "She's legally an adult. This isn't on you."

Clint sighed and looked out the window. Bucky leant back against the window. His leg touched Natasha's.

"Maria, you reckon you could call ahead? To the medical team. If possible, the prep-nurses and anaesthetist need to be women."

"Black dudes are ok…" Bucky mumbled. "Never saw any Soviet black dudes…"

"Am I missing something?" Hill asked.

"And I'm not big on needles," Bucky said.

"Oh…" Maria said, realising what Bucky was referring to. "No, you should definitely be all right for all that here. I mean, not the needles, but…"

"S'ok," Bucky said. Natasha let her hand slip off her leg and rest in the crevice between them. Bucky slid his hand across his leg so that his little finger touched Natasha's thumb. If Maria noticed, she never said a thing.


	10. Chapter 10

It was still dark when Natasha awoke, but it often was, so she didn't mind. They were leaving early anyway, having been here for ten days. Maria, Scott and Wanda had returned to the States, and Natasha, Clint and Sam would go back this morning, and Steve tomorrow. Both Natasha and Sam and offered to wait for him, but Steve wanted to be alone. Natasha understood. She'd find him once he was back in New York. Utilising Maria's endless contacts and list of those who owed her favours, they were all able to return home. Natasha had called Matt to say she wouldn't need any further assistance on this case. He seemed pleased.

The week had been amazing, with daily guided hikes through the jungle to water falls or looking for wildlife, swimming in perfectly clear pools, or canoeing along the river, or getting up before dawn to watch the sunrise over the jungle. One day they'd been taken to the zip-wire and high-ropes course, or 'ultimate-jungle grown-ups playground' as Scott had called it. No one had disagreed. After a good sleep, and a bit of time getting to know the others, Scott had relaxed, and the constant stream of words had slowed. Wanda had seen the psychiatrist, and after a couple of quiet days in the compound, she had started joining the others on their adventures, and by the end of the week, had been the first one ready in the morning, waiting for the others in her hiking boots, her arms shining with sunscreen. Bucky had been properly patched-up when they'd arrived, and had only left the compound once, as the doctor's wanted to keep him under supervision. He'd had a full psychiatric evaluation before they decided to let him go ahead with the freeze, but he'd had to wait until the specialists had declared him fit enough. T'Challa had made sure that they never felt like prisoners, despite the tight security and the fact that they weren't allowed into any populated areas. Once he'd even had them sent McDonald's. They had only seen him twice, but he'd be here today. Natasha was sure of that.

She tossed and turned for a few minutes, hoping that maybe she'd fall back asleep, but quickly gave up and sat up in the dark. After a minute or so, her eyes began to adjust. She went and opened the curtains to see the stairs. There were so many stars in Wakanda. Natasha hadn't realised how much she'd missed the stars. There were a lot of stars out in the wilds of Russia, too.

Today, this morning, Bucky was going under. Natasha leant against the window ledge. She didn't agree with his decision. She understood it, of course, but she didn't agree. The stars shimmered, indifferent and unchanging from year to year, but always there, and always beautiful. She didn't want to be alone. Clint was far from a morning person. Steve was too uptight. She wasn't close enough to Sam to wake him at this hour of the morning, and it would already be too late in New York to call Matt, which meant that Natasha had to go and do what she'd been putting off since they'd arrived.

The facility was out in the middle of no where, surrounded by jungle, with the most amazing medical and engineering facilities she had seen outside of Stark Towers. When they weren't out hiking or exploring, Scott was like a kid in a candy store, following the engineers, asking all manner of questions, which made Natasha realise quite how bright he really was. They had all been assigned rooms in the one wing, and Natasha had noticed how easily their bedrooms could be turned into private medical wards if need be. The wing had twelve such rooms, but now only five were still in use. She, Maria and Wanda had been positioned down one end, and the guys at the other.

Natasha tip-toed down the hall, the security lights not nearly as pleasant as the darkness of her bedroom. She stopped outside of Bucky's room, and tapped on the door. There was no response, so Natasha let herself in.

"Hey," she whispered, shutting the door. Sure enough the curtains were wide open and Bucky was sitting on the side of the bed, staring out at the stars. Natasha went and sat next to him on his right. He didn't look at her or make any sign to acknowledge her. Natasha made herself comfortable and took his hand. Bucky closed his fingers around hers. They sat in silence for a moment, watching the universe move slowly above them.

"I'm going to find it," Natasha said after a while. Bucky didn't respond. "That book. And destroy it. And everything else connected to the Winter Soldier program. Anything they used. Anything that could be used. Anything that looks to be related. Hell, I'll destroy its entire history. And anyone who might still know… well, I'll make sure they forget. Most are probably dead or almost by now anyway."

"What?" Bucky asked, finally turning to her.

"I knew where you were," Natasha said, changing the subject, "In Bucharest. I dropped information to SHIELD, which Agent 13 slipped to Steve, who found you."

"How did you know?"

"Because," Natasha said, "I'm better at hiding than you. I'm better at hiding than anyone. I'll teach you a trick or two one day."

"Why didn't you tell Steve?"

Natasha shrugged, "You didn't want to be found. I get that. So, I decided to let you stay hidden unless something came up. And then something came up, so I guessed it was time to bring you back."

"How did you find me? Steve said he was looking for years…"

"Steve would stand out at a Patriot's game. He's never had to go undercover. Not like that. A couple of times when we have… well, one time I had to pash him in a mall to detract attention."

"You - kissed Steve?"

"Yeah, it was weird. He's an ok kisser, but still, we were on an escalator."

"I'd bet."

They sat in silence for a few more minutes before Bucky spoke.

"Why are you helping me?"

Natasha shrugged. "When I first came to America, came over to the 'Good Guys' as it were, I needed someone to help me. Not - not quite like you, but having 'former Soviet assassin' as your former job doesn't look great on your immigration papers. I got help from folks at SHIELD. Folks who didn't need to trust me, who didn't have to, but they did anyway. I'd lie awake wondering why. Some noble belief than I could be better than my past? Charity? Hope? All of the above? I don't know. I still don't. But they did, and here I am, and my actual passport has a nice big picture of an eagle in it, the same as everyone else's."

"Actual?"

"I might have a few fakes."

Bucky gave a small smile, and they went back to staring out the window. A feint grey glow was beginning to come from the east, but the stars still shone overhead.

"And if you don't?" Bucky asked quietly.

"Don't what?"

"Find everything."

"I will."

"But..."

"I will," Natasha asserted. "You'll be awake by 2020."

"Natasha..."

"Trust me."

Bucky allowed himself a moment to collect his thoughts. "Does Steve know?"

"What I plan to do? No. I'll tell him if he asks, but otherwise… he'll want to help. And I love him, and he is an excellent leader, but when it comes to that sort of spy work, well, it's not really Steve's calling."

They sat in silence for a few more minutes.

"I - should probably go. I want to have a swim before breakfast. Our flight leaves at 0930 hours," Natasha said, standing up.

"I'm not afraid," Bucky said, not letting go of Natasha's hand.

"I know," Natasha said. "See you in 2019?"

"Natasha…"

"2018? I'll make that booking at Claridge's."

"Are - are you asking me out?"

"Are you saying no?"

"No," Bucky said, "I mean - I… Natasha I…"

"I gotta go," Natasha said. She leant over a gave Bucky a peck on the cheek. "See you in a couple years."

Reluctantly, Bucky let go of Natasha's hand. He watched her as she left.

"Room with a view?" he asked.

Natasha stopped and turned back, her hand on the door, "I'll book the whole penthouse if you want."

"So long as it has a bath… and one of those big beds."

"Oh Sergeant Barnes, we're gunna need it. Sleep well."

"See you," Bucky said, not turning back to the window until the door was shut, and he could no longer hear Natasha's footsteps disappearing down the hall. And unless he was very much mistaken, he had heard her skip.


End file.
